from the threshing floor – 5

there is a place i cannot reach:
a far off land, that though i trudge,
recedes, like hope itself in time,
horizons daily i misjudge,

but carried on by ignorance,
i’ll wear by feet to blisters,
then fall into forgotten-ness
like aether, or

transistors

Author: Beleaguered Servant

Owen "Beleaguered" Servant (a/k/a Sibelius Russell) writes poetry mostly, with an occasional pause to have a seizure.

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